Perpetrators – Yet Another Unexpected Twist

For those who have lived in abusive relationships, the illogical yet very real set of dynamics that we have already discussed between perpetrators and victims may be familiar to you – even predictable despite how illogical they are. However, people caught up in those dynamics may or may not realize there is yet another danger for potential harm coming from yet another unexpected source. It’s possible that people and/or organizations or institutions who have purposed intentions to assist or help victims can become an additional source of extreme harm. I’m referring to professionals and lay people in the fields of psychiatry, social work, and/or religious faith, even the Christian church. Harm can be the unintentional outcome of well-meaning intervention, or even strategically intentional harm coming from a base of self-appointed authority for the betterment of either the victim or society in general. In other words, people or organizations can and sometimes do decide that they are better equipped,qualified, or informed to know what is needed in response to an abusive and/or unhealthy relationship than the victim; and furthermore they may have the credentials or authority to impose restrictions and/or interventions upon the victim or the victim’s family against his/her will. They may do so because they are convinced that they know better what is necessary for the benefit of the victim or the victim’s family; or they may do so because they prioritize what is “best” (in their own estimation) for society in total disregard for what is best for the victim. Their motivation can either be genuinely good or diabolically indifferent. In the end, the motives have little bearing on how traumatizing the interventions are for the victim or the victim’s family.

I will share a few personal examples to help you see how this can play out:

1)  At one point in our treatment we were under the care of a well renowned psychiatrist in the field of MPD/DID. In a private counseling session, he asked me if my internal children ever interacted with my external children. He did this without giving any indication that it was intended to do anything more than help him better counsel us. We spoke openly and honestly about the relationships that had developed between our external children and our internal children. To us he showed no sign or indication that he was in any way disturbed by this information, and his counsel to us from that point on gave no indication that he was concerned about these relationships. However, he had theorized that it was unhealthy for external children to have any contact with internal children; and without our knowledge proceeded with efforts to engage the court system to permanently remove our children from our care. He falsified legal and therapeutic documentation intended to impose his conclusions onto our family. I learned of these things after the fact through my legal representation  which I was cut off from while under his care.

2)  Shortly prior to the time I was under that doctor’s care, I had been hospitalized for an extended amount of time. I was very concerned about the welfare of my children while I was not in the home to care for them and protect them from the uncontrolled rage of my ex-husband. In fact, I was so concerned for the well being of my children that I was unable to focus on the things I needed to while in this psychiatric hospitalization so that I would be able to return home to care for my children myself. For this reason I contacted social services and requested that they provide temporary placements for the children just for the time I was hospitalized. Once we signed the legal documentation necessary for this to happen, things took a nasty turn.

Unknown to me/us, the social services in our area (and apparently around the USA) operate off some faulty assumptions. Assumption 1: All victims of severe sexual assault become perpetrators of sexual crimes against their own children.  Assumption 2: All persons with the diagnosis of MPD/DID are victims of severe sexual assault. Faulty conclusion: All persons with the diagnosis of MPD/DID perpetrate sexual crimes against their children. (It is technically illegal for them to institute this obvious bias against a specific psychiatric diagnosis, but that didn’t dissuade them.) With this as a basis, social service set out to permanently remove our children from our care. They instituted through the court system restrictions on all my contacts with my children that are generally reserved for persons convicted of sexual crimes against children. They attempted to get our children to state that they had been sexually assaulted by us. They went to great lengths (legal and illegal) to present a case to the judge to remove the children from my care permanently. They, along with the cooperation of the doctor from example #1, set out to destroy our family. In the end, it required a miraculous intervention that only God could have orchestrated to extricate our family from this situation. We would be foolish to assume that it couldn’t happen again; and that is one of the primary reasons we are taking care to keep our real identity from being known on this site. All over the USA families are being destroyed; and when you get down to the root causes or reasons this destruction is being based upon, it boils down to some faulty theories and assumptions of a few highly educated and acclaimed professionals who think their views don’t need to be substantiated by verifiable facts or data.

3) This third example from our personal history is the most painful to report. Everything (but not everyone) inside desperately want to justify the actions of this institution, yet it would be false and negligent to leave them out. That is the institution of our church family – the body of believers we were involved in and members of at the time the above things were going on.

There were really two points at which they became involved in perpetrating grave injustices against us as a multiple and us as a family. The first took place prior to the instances discussed above. Before I went to social services for support for our family in the midst of the hospitalizations and upheaval characteristic of the early years of both medical and psychiatric crisis, I went to our denomination and our local body of believers. With only good intentions, they established a  group for the sole purpose of providing opportunity for our family to heal. However, they were unprepared and unwilling to learn how to address the real issue of spousal abuse, and the family they arranged to provide care for the children was poorly chosen and poorly supervised. Consequently the temporary separation from my now ex-husband was too shortly lived due to my children pleading tearfully for me to get them out of the situation they were in. There are so many “if only”s involved in this story, but the bottom line was that their unwillingness to deal with the real issues involved caused them to enact policies and make decisions that were detrimental and traumatic for the children and our family. We felt we had no viable alternative but to abort this effort.

The second time was when our church became involved in the scheme of social services to secretly “supervise” all my interactions with my children while we were in church. At first social services prevented the children from being able to attend our church while under their supervision, but I objected to this obvious offense against my children’s religious freedoms (and at this point I had descent legal representation to enforce my objections). When they could no longer prevent me from having unsupervised contact with my children while at church, social services arranged with the pastor who got the deaconate  involved in secretly watching over all interactions between my children and me while at church activities. I learned of this first from a member of the deaconate who was miserably uncomfortable and painful obvious about her role in this secret supervision. It was later confirmed by my lawyer. Far too many church people became informed about the accusations of social services, and it was assumed by church members that social service had to have just cause for their assertions. We were humiliated with no real way to defend against or deny the accusations against us, and our pastor – the man who should have been a source of encouragement and comfort, was cooperating and siding with our perpetrators. It was an excruciatingly lonely and vulnerable time in our life. However,there was one very dear older saint who was a member of the deaconate who intentionally sat directly behind the children and me/us every week during worship services. Each week she would wrap her loving arms around us and whisper in our ear that no one with eyes could possibly believe that I would hurt our little ones. She hugged each one of the kids and praised them for their good behavior and sweet dispositions. She was a shining beacon of love and acceptance in a very dark time in our lives. She has since gone on to heaven, but her ministry to me is still worth more than money could buy, and we continue to miss her greatly.

We have been asked why we continued to attend worship services with this body of believers. There was nothing to prevent us from attending elsewhere, especially after the whole ordeal with social services ended – but our primary concern was for our children. With so many other things in their lives going haywire on them, the support and security they had in their relationships related to our church were lifelines for them. Even though I was humiliated, the children were not. It seemed to us a cruel injustice to the children to take them away from their church home at such a vulnerable and unstable time in their lives.

How do we end a post like this? What conclusions can tie a pretty ribbon around this? I wish I knew a way. I can say that I have reconciled differences with the pastor, and he has affirmed that he would do things very differently now than he did then. He was at a loss to know how to respond in the situation as it was presented to him, and he made some regrettable choices. He is forgiven. I attend worship at a different church now, but some of our children continue to worship in that congregation and are very activley involved in the functions of that church, so I still have occasion to go back from time to time. Very few people ever learned of my innocence, and I doubt many care very much now that the children are grown; but at any rate they are cordial towards me when I am there. The point of putting this information on this blog is that sometimes people can get involved in perpetrating grievous offenses without any intentions of doing so. They may even be intending to be helpful in their interventions, yet these fact do not diminish the harm that is done.

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Perpetrators – It doesn’t make sense part 1

written by Plex

We think of perpetrators as people who have a strong dislike for their victims. At a minimum you would think they didn’t care about them. However, that isn’t necessarily true. All too often a perpetrator is a close relative who has strong feelings of love and attachment for their victims. Sometimes they were the victim of a close relative perpetrator against them when they were young, and the meaning of what people who love each other do to each other gets very mixed up in their brains. Even if this type of victim doesn’t grow up to be a perpetrator themselves, they still have very mixed up understandings of what healthy love looks like, and frequently get involved in relationships as adults that are abusive.

That was true of our first marriage, and in fact was true of an early dating relationship as well. We guarded our children against becoming victims- even our own journey out of abusive relationships was largely motivated by our driving desire for our children to learn to have healthy relationships. Straightening out that mixed-up thinking was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I see God’s hand guiding through the whole process, and I am extremely thankful for it.

I often wondered if my brother loved me or hated me as we were growing up. I’ve even asked him that question, and he is emphatic that he always loved me, yet in my deepest soul I question it – it just doesn’t make any sense. How can you so severely injure someone you love, especially repeatedly and intentionally? I’ve come to understand in my head that it is truly possible, and even happens with frequency in some cultures; but my heart resists the idea.

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Readers BEWARE: You Are a Targeted People In the Light

written by Redeemed  1/16/12

I hope that doesn’t make you feel too uncomfortable, but I want to be upfront with you. You have been the object of our prayers (and not ours alone). You are our mission field.

If someone would have said those words to me just over a year ago, I would have been very afraid. I didn’t want to be seen or identified. If I could have had it my way, I would not have existed at all; but being unable to deny my existence, I was determined to stay hidden in the shadows. These were shadows of shame where I had been banished, I thought, forever away from the light of love and acceptance.

But Jesus shined His light into my shadows, and He wants me to be His lantern so that His light can shine through me – through us – all of the many of me, into your world. In Matthew 5:15-17 we have recorded these words of Jesus (which we have taken as our calling through this blog), “…Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Not only is it our goal to educate and familiarize you with what life is like for a multiple (at least this multiple); but it is also our hope and goal to proclaim to a hurting and broken world that God has not abandoned you in your darkness. He dearly cherishes hurt people who are hiding in the dark corners of the world, including cyber-world. He wants to show through this undeniably injured people-person that you cannot be too damaged to be loved by Him or be used by Him.

Last night I was reminded yet again that as dark as my world has been, there are places that are even more deeply saturated in utter, complete darkness and hopelessness than we have ever known. But even in the extreme recesses of utter and complete absence of light God is penetrating with blinding brilliance, and He is using deeply injured people to do it.

In John 8:12 Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

One of our favorite passages of Scripture (especially when we were new to the diagnosis of MPD) has been 1Peter 2:9 [Amplified Bible]

9But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a dedicated nation, [God’s] own [a]purchased, special people, that you may set forth the wonderful deeds and display the virtues and perfections of Him Who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light

and here are a few more fractions of light to contemplate:

Job 34:22 “There is no deep shadow, no utter darkness, where evildoers can hide.”

Psalms 139:11,12 (Actually, this whole long chapter has been dearly precious to us in our multiplicity. It’s extremely well worth the time and effort to look it up and let the words of these passages seep deep into your soul.) [ If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night,”, even the darkness will not be dark to You; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You.]

And one more – a warning from Isaiah 29:15, {Woe to those who go to great depths to hide their plans from the LORD, who do their work in darkness and think, “Who sees us? Who will know?”} (Let me be clear about this – it is a warning to those who are perpetrators of evil, not those forced to carry it out or the victims who often hide in shame.)

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A Note from one of the many

I’m not Abigail or Plex or anyone who will ever have my name designated on a blog. I’m merely one of the many – a  minion, in fact, but a legitimate one. I make a point to not be out very much. I don’t see eye to eye with most of the others – a skeptic, you could say. We were deeply involved in a conversation with a dear and trusted friend and somehow I ended up out. Now the trick is to be out as short a time as possible without being too intentional about it, since only Jesus has the right to control who is and isn’t out in this system. So my theory is that the quickest way to disappear from being out is to do or say whatever it is Jesus has in mind for my outness so that it can be done and over with. Tonight that means doing this post. That is the one and only reason you will ever see what I have  to say.

I got triggered out when we were talking about how trustworthy God is, or in my case, isn’t. I’m guessing that means that the best way to get back in is to write about what I think about God’s untrustworthyness, let Him challenge me (yet again), and then disappear when nothing gets solved. (In case you haven’t figured it out already, I’m not a very optimistic person, and trust is not my long suit.)

So here’s the thing. I’m not all that old, but I’m not all that young either. I’ve had a lot of time and opportunity to study what the Bible has to say about God, and I know a good number of other writings and discussions about what other people think about God and His trustworthiness. I acknowledge that what God says about Himself is true, but the Bible doesn’t just tell us what God says about Himself. It also tells us what other people say about God. It also says a lot about situations and history and stuff from which people have drawn a lot of conclusions about God’s trustworthiness and about what God says about Himself. That doesn’t even include all the things other books and articles and resources say about Him and say about what the Bible says about Him. With such a lot of information, it’s hard to keep sorted out what comes from where. It gets more than overwhelming long before it comes to a conclusion. So in the end, I have to come back to what I know in my core to be true.

In my core, I know what is right and what is wrong. I know what is just and what is unjust. It’s hardwired into me by my Creator. To deny it is to deny who Created me. Right?  Maybe not.

But what if….that is the question I’m wrestling with tonight. What if there is a right, a justice, that is beyond my capacity to comprehend. This is the query my friend posed to me tonight. Like a child who is young and doesn’t understand that the shot the doctor just gave me was to protect me from an illness that could hurt far worse than the pain of the shot. The child does not and cannot comprehend the very real threat that an unseeable germ could present to him/her. They only know they trust their parents who brought them to this place and permitted, perhaps even cooperated with, the doctor who just caused them very real physical pain. They might feel betrayed by the parent. They could feel confused about why the parent keeps taking them to this guy in the white suit who seems to only be present in the child’s life when the child is  most vulnerable or when they are sick (like I’m feeling right now – I have a migraine and I’m going to have to stop this and deal with the migraine very soon). The point is, maybe God seems untrustworthy to me because of my limited or impaired or immature/undeveloped ability to see things from His perspective.

Right now my ability to pursue this further is impaired by the migraine. It will likely take more than a night to resolve anyway. Unfortunately, that might mean me being out again sometime soon. For now, I’m gone.

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Perpetrator defined

written by Plex

According to Webster’s dictionary, “Perpetrate” is defined as “to do or perform something evil, criminal,or offensive; to be guilty of; to commit a blunder, impose a hoax”

A more generally accepted definition is anyone who intentionally or unintentionally does or says something that severely traumatizes another person. Yes, the trauma can be caused unintentionally. In fact, what is traumatic to one person may not be traumatic to another person. In other words, you can do something that for most people would not be traumatic at all, but for one individual at  this time under these circumstances, it can be extremely traumatic – making you a perpetrator. That makes you stop and reconsider your assumptions about perpetrators, doesn’t it?   It should.

In the case of many perpetrators, there is a repeated history of clearly abusive acts. When this is the case, they can become very skilled at hiding their offenses and manipulating their victims to keep the abuse a secret.
The general population has come to think this is true of all perpetrators. They are evil villains, always up to no good. People think they do their evil deeds in secret and put on a public face of innocence. But the fact is that it isn’t all that simple. In truth, there are times when the harm they cause, though very intensely and grievously painful and damaging, may not have been intentional at all. It may be the results of misguided beliefs or misunderstandings. It could be the results of a misinterpretation of the situation or intentions on the part of the victim. A person may respond to something they see as a crisis in a way that is inconsistent with their usual behavior and in that moment under those circumstances they may lash out. The reasons a person becomes a perpetrator are as diverse as the offenses they perpetrate.

Whether intentional or not, whether repeated or not, whether done in secret or out in plain view for the world to see – in every case the harm done to the victim is very real and valid. It cannot be excused on any basis or for any reason. It is not the fault of the victim; and it needs to be healed in order for the victim to recover from the trauma it caused.

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*sheepishly ducking behind computer* I Lied

Honestly, I didn’t mean to. It’s a multiple thing. You see, the anniversary of my mother’s death was January 2. Historically this has been a very hard time of year for us, especially me, Plex; and this year there were additional stresses, so our way of coping is to do a lot of switching. We have been switching A LOT lately, trying to keep up some level of reasonably normal functioning (and quite honestly not doing a super good job of managing it, either). Doing all the posts about past creative writing has been a way to hide behind the computer a bit so that we are not all out there bluntly displaying our dysfunction for all the world to see. Anyway, during our non-computer blogging time we have been thinking about Mama and grieving her death, trying yet again to heal a bit from some pretty bitter, angry feelings we still experience. We have decided that, as part of our healing and to honor our mother here today, we will share one more creative writing we did. This one is a tribute to our mother. We wrote it a year ago in preparation to going to visit her grave site for the first time ever last summer. It’s a bit of a long and involved story – one that we need to tell in more detail sometime; but for now we invite you to share this tribute. If you, too, have lost your own dear mother and grieve the loss as we do, perhaps it will be of some comfort to you.

BEAUTY TO ASHES/ ASHES TO BEAUTY

my mom was beautiful – just as true as the day is long.  It wasn’t a stunning outward beauty that would catch a man’s eye and cause him to discretely follow her every move; but the kind, pure inner beauty that would cause a frightened child to know that there was nothing to dread from her. To be held near her heart and enveloped within her embrace was to be in a safe haven when life’s storms raged & tormented.  Whether tiny & frail, young or old, sick or in sound health you need not fear; for no storm was strong enough to tear you away from her sheltering grip.

When I was a child I was frequently frightened and tormented. Frequently I sought out and found shelter in my mother’s arms, so there was no one more beautiful to me than my momma.  As I grew stronger & more confident I watched her love work wonders in many people’s lives. I suppose that’s why I loved her so dearly and why I grieve the loss of her so intensely, even though it has been 30 years since her death.

It seemed impossible that anything could turn my momma’s beauty into ashes, but cancer did the impossible. Her body betrayed her. Perhaps it rebelled against the frequent times she would look into the mirror and pronounce that she was fat and ugly. It always made me sad to hear her say those words because she reflected only love & security to me which was beautiful in my sight. Whatever the reason, her body began a slow, cruel process of eating her up from the inside out. To make matters worse, people who should have cared and helped were negligent and unwilling to do what they were able to do to curb the cancer’s appetite. They neglected to care for her properly when we entrusted her to their care. When we brought her home to take care of her ourselves, they were unwilling to supply us with the necessary knowledge and medications to ease her pain properly and help her fight the cancer/  Although we did our best with the skills and equipment we were given, it seemed to me we failed her miserably with the cancer taking full advantage of our ignorance & limitations.

I wanted to storm the hospital and take the staff to task, demanding the professionals do what they could to help Momma fight against this fire that raged within her and ravaged her body mercilessly.  But Mom and Dad were not the sort of people to permit such action.  They always assumed people were doing their best and needed pardoned for their shortcomings even when negligence was blatant and inexcusable.  Besides, Momma never wanted to be a bother to anyone. So the fire consumed her more cruelly and more rapidly than should have been permitted, leaving embers of horrible grief and compounded resentment to burn within my own soul.

When death seemed the inevitable outcome but the cancer had not yet consumed her ability to think clearly, Momma focused on what we would need after she was gone.  It was her desire to donate her remains to the university to study and learn how to better fight this cancer in other patients in the future.  My brother, Tim, and I expressed a need to have a final resting place where we could go to grieve the loss of our mother. So arrangements were made and legal documents signed for her ashes to be returned to us when the university was finished with her remains. Plans were made to take her ashes to the homestead in West Virginia and scatter them there. Grandma prepared a special place for this to happen.

Death came with brutality and heartlessness until the final moments when she simply took one final breath and was gone.  Officials from the university descended upon us like compassionless vultures to remove her from our midst; and we were left to await the appointed time when Dad was to receive a call informing him that he could come and get her ashes. That time came and went without a word, but Dad was patient, trusting that word would come soon.  What finally came was an impostor in the form of a letter telling us that Momma’s ashes had been mixed with 30 other people and placed at a specific place in a cemetery in the middle of Philadelphia. When Dad called to ask why this was done without first calling him as agreed upon prior to Mom’s death, he was told that he sould have called to remind them of this agreement, leaving Dad to feel that he had let Momma down instead of the university taking responsibility for their own breach of contract. The fire that turned my momma’s beauty into ashes burned on within my own heart & soul, ravaging me with unbearable grief and anger.

But the ashes are not the end of the story for Momma or for me. Death for her brought sweet relief and comfort in the arms of her Savior, Jesus Christ. For me, Momma’s death set the stage for many years of trauma – years when other fires would fan the flames of Momma’s death, never letting them fade to embers and cool.  At times they threatened to consume me as well, but beauty has begun to rise from the ashes. It has taken a high toll but with much determination, effort, and help from good people, I have begun to heal and forgive. Like a forest that has been ravished by an all-consuming flame, little by little new beginnings of growth have emerged. Once mighty oaks are being replaced with tender young shoots that bend instead of break when the storms of life blow hard against them.  I am finding this passage of Scripture in Psalms 126:5 to be true, “They who sow in tears shall reap in joy and singing.” I find comfort in Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:4 (Amplified Version) where He says, “Blessed and enviably happy [with a happiness produced by experience of God’s favor and especially conditioned by the revelation of His matchless grace] are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted!” I have not only learned by faith but also by living out the truth that, “to everything there is a season, and a time for everything under the sun: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to reap what was planted…a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance….and GOD MAKES ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL IN HIS TIME.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-4,11)

(additional note: today was my first time reading that piece, and though I would not have written it just that way, it has touched me deeply to read it. I can’t help but be aware of a tremendous amount of healing that must have taken place for the one/s who did write that in order for it to have been expressed that way; and once again I am intensely aware of how left behind I have been.)

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North of The Tension Line

Add an ImageThe last of the creative writings I want to share at this point, any way, is a light-hearted poem about a vacation place we have enjoyed over the years. It’s located in one of the great lakes in the northern parts of the USA. The only access to this island is a ferry boat which runs between the island and the peninsula of Wisconsin. There is a part of the lake known as “Death’s Door” because the lake is especially treacherous there and many ships have gone down during severe weather at that location. There is also  local folklore about the island being “north of the tension line” referring to the notion that people leave all their cares behind when they come to vacation there. We have written an extension to this poem with the hopes that we can get it published in a children’s book, but the part that we share here is the first part which was written while visiting the island for the first time some years ago. We hope you enjoy this little preview of what may be to come sometime in the future:

North of the Tension Line

Stresses and Pressures were first to begin it

Then Busy Time asked them if he could join in it.

“Why, sure!” said the two as they winked at each other,

“And bring along Fussy, your sweet baby brother.”

Together they planned a vacation escape.

They boxed all their troubles and sealed them with tape.

“Hurray!” cried the four as they loaded the wagon,

But all of their stuff made the bottom start draggin’

All of these things they could not do without.

To leave them would soon be disastrous, no doubt.

“These burdens are heavy,” they said with a sigh,

“But we can’t leave them here so we’ll just have to get by.”

What were these boxes all packed in a hurry?

Stresses and Pressures had packed lots of worry.

Busy Time’s list had “to do” on each line.

And Fussy, the babe was beginning to whine.

When just up ahead there came into view

The Washington Ferry to carry them through.

But though all the others paid fare and drove on

The ship’s captain told them to park on the lawn.

He said, “All these things that you’re bringing must stay.

They cannot be brought where we’re going today.

Due north between here and the island, you know,

Is the tension line through which these things cannot go.”

“The tension line borders the island’s great shore,

And worrisome things can’t go through any more.

Well, the ferry is leaving, decide in a hurry.

Will you come without things that could cause you to worry?”

It took just a moment for all to decide.

They would leave all their worries behind for this ride.

Once on the ferry they felt unencumbered.

And on Washington Island contented they slumbered.

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A Letter to my Perpetrators- What You Ought to Know

written by one of Plex

I hope you all are not getting tired of my creative writings. I will share just two more. The one I want to share today is very heavy, and I don’t want to end on such a heavy note; so the next one will be light and funny.

I wrote this one while I was taking a course to recover from childhood sexual abuse along with three other women. Previous to this course I had pretty much given up on doing any kind of group recovery work because all previous attempts had ended with the facilitator requesting that leave the group due to how upsetting it was to the other women to hear my story. It took a lot of courage to attempt it again, but I will always be thankful to the facilitator of this group for the encouragement I received before and during this group experience. The other women in the group are also dear to my heart.

Here is the poem I wrote during this course:

A Letter to My Perpetrators

All fall under the same condemnation –

Those who wounded me.

Those who failed to protect me,

Those who refused justice to me after great offense and harm was done to me.

You are not innocent,

There is no excuse for your offense.

There is no excuse for your neglect.

There is no excuse for the lack of justice extended to me –

Justice I deserved and needed.

BUT

There was payment made.

The price was high, even higher than the punishment you deserve.

I did not pay it.

You cannot pay it.

God demanded it because your offense was so great against one He cherishes so dearly.

Yet He paid it.

God did not choose to be benevolent towards you.

God did not minimize the severity of your offense.

God did not lessen the impact your offense had on me so that you would or could feel less guilty.

The fact that I also am equally indebted to Him does not minimize your offense.

Justice was not sacrificed on the alter of mercy or compassion.

The injury caused by your sin required that justice be paid.

And it was.

You and I owe everything to the merciful, loving, just God

Who chose of His own free will

To meet the demands of Justice on our behalves.

I just thought you ought to know.

Anyone who is also a victim knows how hard it was to write that – to put those words on paper for all the world to see, and to share them with a world that could easily misunderstand. In fact, when I originally shared it with a larger group of people other than the small recovery group I wrote it for, many did misunderstand. It’s very hard to have pain validated in so clear a way. It’s even harder to accept that the victim, who shares no blame in the assault done against them, does share equally in the need to be forgiven for unrelated offenses before a blameless and totally just God. As human beings we tend to maximize the offenses done against us and minimize the offenses we do against others; but God does neither one – not for any of us. We all stand equally in need of God’s forgiveness and we all share in the potential benefit of seeking out and claiming hold of that forgiveness. It’s a very hard yet critically important lesson to learn for anyone seeking out complete healing and freedom from deep and grievous wounds.

And, yes, I just thought YOU ought to know.

 

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A Lost Post – Turbulent Waters

I thought this post was set up to be visible on Christmas eve, and since it preceded Behold the Lamb, it contained the explanation of a significant aspect of these writings. At this point there is nothing to do but recapture as best I can the essence of what I wrote before:

These writings were created during the first two hospitalizations of the MPD diagnosis. I felt troubled inside – I sensed the need to write but I didn’t know what I needed to write about. As I posed my pen above the paper, contemplating what to write, my hand started writing independent of my intention or effort and without any thoughts going through my conscious mind. It was as if my hand was controlled by someone other than myself, and what was being written was the expression of their thoughts, not mine. I was an observer to the process, not actively involved. I hope that makes sense to you all. It was a rather frightening experience the first time it happened, but after that I was more intrigued than anything else. This is what I wrote that first time:

[insert: this is not one of the times when the writing was automatic. It was written during the first MPD hospitalization, but this one was the result of my intentions.]

TURBULENT WATERS

(written by Plex during first MPD hospitalization)

I believe Jesus is holding our hand, leading us through this frigid, murky river; but we feel the sharp stones bruising and piercing our feet.  The icy water chills us until we are numb, and then seems to set our skin on fire with deep penetrating cold that burns. The current rushes around us tugging one way and then another, trying to pry our hand out of our Savior’s in order to drag us under and away from our Stronghold and Guide.  The waters rise around our neck and at times consume our whole head, sending us into a blind panic, making death seem like sweet relief.

But Jesus always draws us closer to Himself and we gain courage and strength from Him as we are able to continue our perilous journey.  I reaffirm my faith that He is willing and able to guide and protect us.  At times He will carry us through this river which is too strong for us to cross without Him, and we will arrive safely on the other side.

Isaiah 43:1-3: (NKJ) “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine.  When you pass though the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.  When you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, nor shall the flames scorch you.  For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel,” (The Holy One of Abigail) “your Savior.”

Hebrews 13:5,6: (Amplified)  He (God) Himself has said, “I will not in any way fail you nor give you up or leave you without support.  I will not, I will not, I will not in any degree leave you helpless, nor farsake nor let you down, relax My hold on you – assuredly not!” So we take comfort and are encouraged and confidently and boldly say, “The Lord is my Helper, I will not be seized with alarm – I will not fear or dread or be terrified.  What can man do to me?”

Romans 8: 38,39:  (amplified)  For I am persuaded beyond doubt – am sure – that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things impending and threatening, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth,nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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BEHOLD THE LAMB

This is another writing that just came out of my hand without going through conscious thought. I wish I could share the whole thing. It came in two parts that went together – this writing and a piece of artwork done on a very large piece of art paper. The artwork and writing were destroyed after our traumatic deliverance experience  – they were all considered demonic writings. Somehow a copy of the writing survived detection so we are able to share that piece with you; but first let us describe the artwork:

In the lower right corner there was a large face of a shepherd looking with deep concern up at the rest of the drawing. In the distance (which takes up the remainder of the paper) you can see a very rocky precipice with a very rough and dangerous path chiseled out of the edge going from the rocky gorge up to the top where there is a green pasture. Looking over the ledge are three or four sheep, and on the path right where there is a break in the path there is another shepherd carrying a very sickly, thin, and weak looking lamb in his arms. It’s evident from the position of the lamb that it is struggling to break free of the Shepherd’s grip, but there is no concern or fear in the face of the Shepherd.

After I was done with the artwork I looked at the finished product and as my gaze was directed to the rocky precipice just below where the Shepherd is carrying the lamb, I noticed with amazement that the jagged rocks formed the exact image of a pair of hands that were cupped together ready to catch the shepherd and/or lamb if they fell. The hands are not apparent at first glance at the artwork, they are so well blended into the rocks; yet once you see them or they are pointed out to you, there is no mistaking the clear image of the hands. Just as I noticed this with amazement a voice inside my head said, “See, even if you were able somehow to manage to break free of my grip, Your Heavenly Father would have caught you.”

and here is the writing:

BEHOLD THE LAMB

(written during second hospitalization after diagnosis of MPD, which followed the first by only a couple months)

Behold me, oh you of His flock who dare to get close enough to the edge to see with your own eyes who it is your Beloved Shepherd risks the perils of the jagged rocks and treacherous terrain in order to rescue.  You are brave to gaze upon such dangers, and surely you must shudder inside to see the frail, awkward one He carries. Surely you must think such a feeble creature is not worth the time and trouble, to say nothing of the perils He risks, for one who could perish before ever arriving at the top where there are green pastures and still waters.  You must watch in disbelief when you see me, a tiny invalid, use all my strength to struggle and strain to free myself from the Shepherd’s firm but gently grip – causing enough disturbance for Him to stop at a particularly precarious place to soothe and comfort me, and snuggle me back into a safe, secure position before resuming the upward journey.

Can you hear Him – what He says to me, that makes a feeble, rebellious, invalid lamb feel like it’s OK to not try to climb this impossible gorge, but to relax in the security of His strong and comforting arms?

“I, the Lord, am your Shepherd. I know this precipice and all it’s dangers.  I will guide and shield you.  I will carry you. You need nothing more.  Up above, where I am taking you, there are green pastures and I will make you lay in them.  There are still and restful waters up there; and I will lead you by them. I will refresh and restore your life – I will do it.  I will lead you in the paths of righteousness because I delight in transforming frightened feeble lambs into strong ewes who nurture My flock and who are devoted to being obedient to My voice. Yes, although we walk through the deep, sunless valley of the shadow of death, you need not fear or dread any evil, for I am now and always will be with you.  I am always right here to comfort you.

When we arrive at the top we will have a great feast. Even your enemies will be invited to the celebration (for although they have waged war against you, they will have been instrumental in your growth). Your head will be anointed with oil, as have been the others who are redeemed of the Lord, and your brimming cup will overflow.

You see, My frail, feeble lamb, surely goodness, mercy, and love will envelop you now and through all the days of your life; and for all your days you will remain in the presence of the Lord in My dwelling place.”

Please remember that I had no control over what my hand was doing the whole time this was being created. I was a passive bystander watching what my hand was doing independent of my effort. The quality of the work was amazing. Everyone who looked at it was deeply moved. They assumed I was an artist, and I am convinced I could never have done this quality of work no matter how hard I tried if it was being done by my own effort.

And what of you today? Do you identify with that weak and feeble lamb? Do you know that your Savior longs to carry you up the perilous cliff to green pastures and still waters? If so, let someone help you begin this new relationship with your  Shepherd. Call 888-NEED HIM to speak with someone.

We are wishing you all a very merry Christmas

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